


Get Your Head Together!

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cybertron Realized, Transformers: More than Meets the Eye
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get a little hot in Rung's office...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Your Head Together!

**Author's Note:**

> Time Period: Post War, months after the launch of the Lost Light.

Rung took a step back, optics wide. He had made a mistake and hadn’t realized it until it was too late. The ex-Wrecker in front of him took a step forward. Rung moved back once more and his back met the wall. He brought his hands up in front of him.

“Now, now Whirl, think about this. You d-don’t want to go back to prison, do you?”

Rung barely moved as he watched the single optic staring down at him narrow. Whirl lowered his helm until it almost touched Rung’s. The psychoanalyst’s helm hit the wall as he tried to avoid his unstable patient.

“I’m not going back to prison.” Whirl said confidently.

Rung let his optics dart quickly over Whirl’s body. He was tense and still, which was not a good sign. His vents were open but the hiss of air was absent. Clearly Rung had stepped over the line. He’d said something that had pushed Whirl over the edge. Part of him was thrilled he’d gotten this much of an honest reaction but the other part of him was terrified that it might cost him his spark.

“Good!” Rung said quickly. “That’s… That’s good.”

“But that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to the med-ward.”

“What?” Rung’s voice was cut off as Whirl’s misshapen hand wrapped around the smaller bot’s neck. The orange Cybertronian was easily lifted off the ground. Rung reached out to hold on to Whirl’s wrist with both hands, kicking lightly with his peds as if looking for purchase. He did not want to struggle—he knew how easy it was to trigger the predator in bots like Whirl—but his processor recognized an immediate threat. He felt the wall behind him as an unwelcome press at his back as Whirl tightened his hand.

“Accidents happen. People get hurt. You seem to have a knack for being in the right place at the wrong time.”

“No I’m actually quite lucky.” Rung managed before Whirl’s lower claw found his vocal processor. The orange Cybertronian entertained briefly the thought that Whirl knew exactly where to press to shut him up and it was disconcerting. Rung off-lined his optics, bit back a whine and grimaced as Whirl slid him up the wall. When he next powered up his sight he was at optic-level with his blue patient. His optics flickered slightly as Whirl jabbed him in the chest.

“You don’t know when to quit.” Whirl’s optic flared. Much to Rung’s surprise this was followed by the removal of the thumb on his vocal processor. The piece whirred in calibration before Rung opened his mouth.

“I’m only trying to help you, Whirl. That’s all I’ve ever done. That’s why I do this.”

“What? Talk? Push buttons? Get under your patient’s armor until they want to scrap you?”

Rung nodded.

“Oh.”

The orange Cybertronian relaxed a little. He was clearly getting through to Whirl. He had become used to these little outbursts but each time physical contact was made he regretted telling Rodimus the guards were unnecessary.

“Unfortunately I find in order to make progress I have to see what sets someone off. Sometimes hitting these nerves is the only way to move forward.” Rung explained, trying to still his legs as he dangled. “I don’t enjoy it but the ends justify the means and if it leads to recovery, I’m willing to be the bad guy.”

Whirl seemed to be thinking on this. Rung gave a quick pat to his patient’s arm and smiled.

“Now, now why don’t you put me down, hmm?”

“Oh, fine, whatever. You would have made a nice addition to your decorating scheme.”

Rung had little time to brace himself as Whirl released him. His peds slipped from under him as he hit the floor and he landed on his aft. He sighed.

“I’m glad you’ve decided not to send me to the med-ward, Whirl. May I be so bold as to remind you that when we first met you likely would not have held back?”

“I’m still sending you to the med-ward, doc. I’m just not going to terminate you. In fact I’m hoping not to spill any energon at all, from either of us.”

“I… what?” Rung shook his helm as he stood. He couldn’t help but lower his guard. Usually Whirl boasted about things he was capable of, things he was going to do, but having already made physical contact the doctor assumed he was finished. Once the altercation was over things usually quieted down. Any progress Rung hoped to make happened in those moments after Whirl released him.

“If you’re not planning to spill energon, then how pray tell do you intend to send me to the med-ward?” Rung asked cautiously. He did not want to know the answer but the timbre of Whirl’s voice suggested he wished to open a dialogue. He /wanted/ to talk and Rung could not ignore the plea.

“I’m going to interface with you. And honestly I’ve never tried anything with a ‘bot as small as you so I’m just assuming you’ll want to visit med-ward when I’m through.”

Rung’s face twitched. Had he heard Whirl correctly? He assumed not. He took a step away from the wall cautiously.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“You heard what I said, eyebrows.”

Rung leaned back, as if moving away from the leer Whirl gave over his pauldren. The single optic flickered for a moment and Whirl turned around.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never interfaced before.”

“I—no, I mean, yes. I have, certainly. I’m far too old to be… Ah, what I mean is, you can’t mean that.” Rung tapped his finger tips together nervously. He found he had trouble meeting Whirl’s optic. “I’m your /therapist/ and it’s hardly professional for me to-to….”

“Interface.”

“Yes uh… /that/, with a patient.”

Whirl scoffed. He stepped forward and Rung found himself pressed to the wall once more. The blue Cybertronian let out a puff of air from a vent near his neck and chuckled.

“Aww, you can’t even say it, can you? That’s cute. But if that’s your only excuse, it’s not going to work.”

“It’s not… an excuse. Whirl, really. I’m—genuinely frightened. Stop this. This isn’t like you.”

“It isn’t?” Whirl coed, an odd tone in his vocal processor. He moved closer to the smaller Cybertronian against the wall. “Tell me then, doc, what /is/ like me? Do you know? I don’t think so.”

“I would if you would talk to me.”

“I’m gonna do you one better.” Whirl sounded almost jovial. He pressed his hands to the wall and looked down between them. Rung’s optics flickered off then on as he looked up at his patient.

“Whirl don’t do this.”

“Shhh,” Whirl whispered as he pressed a claw to Rung’s lips. The doctor tried to turn his helm but Whirl wouldn’t let him. Whirl grabbed either side of the orange bots face in a pinch between his claws, holding Rung in place. He pulled a claw from his second hand slowly down over Rung’s lip, letting it linger on the bottom one.

“This isn’t going to help you recover.” Rung whispered quietly. He was silenced as Whirl pressed a claw into his mouth, bypassing his dentae easily as Rung had parted them to speak. Rung’s optics flared behind his scopes, his arms remained stiff at his sides but his fingers worked against the air nervously.

“Heh, lips are funny.” Whirl practically giggled, pressing his digit further into Rung’s mouth. He slid the blunt of his claw over the wet and soft surface of Rung’s glossa. He pressed it back further, further, further… and was rewarded with a gag from the therapist and white hands instantly on his arm, pulling him away. He pulled the claw back just slightly, leaving it pressed to Rung’s glossa for a moment more.

“Maybe this will help, you know? Why, I feel positively chatty. I’m in a sharing mood, doc, maybe we go a little further and I tell you all about my parents?”

Rung gasped in a breath as he pulled at Whirl’s arm and the claw finally dislodged itself. He tried to push Whirl’s arm away and knew he only succeeded because the larger Cybertronian let him.

“Whirl don’t be reckless. This is possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had. You can’t go through with this. /I/ am your /therapist/!”

“Is that still your only excuse? Because I told you before that’s not gonna work.” Whirl leaned down until he was bent at an odd angle. This brought his optic in line with Rung’s.

“I don’t want to. How is that for an excuse? Are you-you really willing to continue knowing what that implies?”

“You’re a terrible liar, for a head-doctor.” Whirl shook Rung’s hands from his wrist. He surged his arm forward so quickly he saw Rung flinch in preparation for violence. Instead the blue Cybertronian tapped at Rung’s chest. “I can hear your core patterns, you know. I can practically feel that sputter you spark gives when I get close, like this.” To illustrate he slid a ped closer. Rung tried to sink further into the wall and Whirl chuckled.

“Whirl, please…”

Rung let out a low gasp and bit down on his glossa as Whirl spread a large, clawed hand over the doctor’s chest plate. The contact was whole and rough and /right over his spark chamber/. His hands were again around Whirl’s wrist and he didn’t like that it was becoming a common theme of their sessions.

“It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it, doc?”

“That’s hardly an appropriate question.”

“No fun.” Whirl groaned. He pushed slightly against Rung’s chest and heard a small, strangled noise. It wasn’t due to the pressure he was exerting either. It was a noise he was rewarded for the commitment behind his touch. Rung’s hands on his wrist were still—not pulling or pushing or gripping like they usually were.

“Your motives aren’t ever this basic, Whirl. I—I don’t understand. I’m worried you’re backtracking. You’re dodging something and redirecting your aggression because,” Rung paused and forced himself to meet optics with Whirl, “you honestly /don’t/ want to hurt me. But this… this would be just as bad as hurting me, Whirl.”

“Oh yeah?” Whirl tapped his claw on Rung’s chest for a moment. “Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.” He felt the smaller bot under his hand relax. “Fine. I’ll back off or whatever /if/ you can prove you don’t want this.” Whirl lifted a claw to press it against Rung’s chin.

“I told you I don’t, Whirl. I’m not sure how much clearer I can make myself.” Rung’s words were not nearly as strong as he wanted them to be. Whirl’s claw pressed at his lips again and the doctor quickly turned his helm away. Whirl practically purred as he leaned closer in. He nuzzled at the wires in Rung’s neck, easily hearing the whimper Rung tried not to make.

“Primus you suck at this. Your core is thrumming a mile a minute.”

“You’re frightening me! Of course it’s thrumming!” Rung spat turning his helm, releasing Whirl’s wrist with one hand and batting away the helm at his neck. The chuckle from Whirl was dark and the orange bot found himself holding his breath.

“No, this is fear.”

Rung turned to look at Whirl’s chest, surprised, as a noise began to issue from somewhere within the chassis. It was the sound of someone’s core thrumming, quickly with a rythmic beat. Rung looked up at Whirl.

“Where did you…?”

“And this is what you are, turned on.” Whirl chided and played a second recording. The noises were clearly different. This core was a flutter and flurry of short and long beats, a chaotic whirr. The sound brought hot energon pooling into Rung’s faceplate in a blush. He carefully put his hands over Whirl’s on his chest.

“A-all right well, let’s… let’s step back, Whirl. Take this slowly.”

“I intend to.” Whirl replied quickly, using a claw to play with the wires at Rung’s throat. “I wasn’t just gonna stick it in you unprepared or anything. I’m not a sadist.”

Rung made a strange noise at Whirl’s blunt confession. The hand against his chest retracted and he stumbled forward a little. He was unaware he’d been leaning on the hand to such an extent. He had only a second to gather himself before he found Whirl’s hands clamped around his waist. He squeaked slightly and set to work trying to pry his fingers between his hips and Whirl’s hands. The blue Cybertronian easily hoisted him off the ground completely. Rung struggled in his grasp.

“Stop this! Put me down, Whirl! This instant!” Rung gasped as Whirl obliged—sort of—and tossed him. The distance was barely a few feet and Rung soon found himself sliding to a stop on his desk along his back. He quickly pushed himself up to his elbows and glared at Whirl. “What if I had broken something!” He growled as his scopes tilted against his faceplate, forced askew by the toss.

“You didn’t.” Whirl supplied matter-of-fact as he moved forward. Slinking like a predator he curved himself over Rung’s prone form. He stood between Rung’s knees and placed his hands on either side of the therapist’s torso.

“Yes but what if I…” Rung fixed his scopes and clanged his helm against the desk as he reared away from Whirl’s face, just inches away. “Did.”

Rung brought his hands between them and pushed against Whirl’s chestplate.

“Stop it! Stop this right now before I call for help!”

“Doc, if you wanted help,” Whirl reached up and grabbed the almost invisible bridge of Rung’s scopes. “You would have turned on that thumb recorder. It’s got a particular whine that, well, by Primus I’m just not hearing.” Whirl had the distinct pleasure of seeing Rung’s optics flare in surprise without the obscuring scopes in place.

Rung’s fingers twitched against Whirl’s chestplates, where he had stopped pushing. He tilted his head to watch Whirl place the scopes on the desk far out of reach. He swallowed hard. He took his hands away from Whirl’s chest and reached over his head for the scopes. He was stopped by Whirl’s hands—but not as they prevented him from reaching—as they splayed over his lower abdomen. His body clenched and froze in place. Whirl’s impossibly long claws pressed and rubbed and thrummed against soft, pliable wires with little armor. A true testament to Rung—and a scattering of other therapists—and his usefullness to both sides of the conflict on Cybertron. Medics of most varieties and children were often off-limits, seen as valuable hostages.

The orange Cybertronian was spurred back into motion as Whirl’s hands moved lower. Rung reached down and grabbed Whirl’s wrists, trying to pull the blue mech’s hands back up. He whimpered once or twice in desperation as Whirl snickered, obviously strong enough that Rung’s pulling was hardly a threat. The doctor arched up and gasped airily as Whirl’s bottommost claws slid between his thighs and over the bulge of his lower panel.

“See? I told you… you want a piece of your blue patient, doc.”

 

Rung sat upright with a jolt, optics flaring to life. He stared at the empty room before him frantically until he slowly realized he was alone. He scrambled through the mess at his desk until he found his scopes. He quickly pinned them into place and gave the room another quick search.

Alone.

He let out a long hiss of air and leaned forward onto his elbows.

“Primus!” Rung whispered, rubbing at his helm. He wanted memories to return to him after his near-termination experience, but not quite like that. The disappointing part was mostly that he was unable to tell what parts of his dreams were /truth/. He knew some of it was real—had happened—because his processor worked around these bits comfortably… but other parts? This was going to take him days to shift through, digest and piece back together. He sincerely hoped he could stay out of Whirl’s way until then.

He moved to stand and grimaced. He looked down at himself and sighed upon noticing a small collection of fluid from his lower panel.

“Oh dear.”


End file.
